You Know What I'm Asking
by Strangely Sirius
Summary: “I remember when Harry proposed to me. He did a rubbish job of it too, you know…” Ginny reminisces. HG in case you couldn’t tell. One shot. PreDH.


Disclaimer: I am not feeling especially witty at the moment, so don't think you are going to get a single bit of amusement out of this disclaimer, because you won't. It is just your standard, boring, run-of-the-mill disclaimer. Actually, I wouldn't even bother reading it if I where you. But that is just me, and I own nothing, especially not Harry Potter. Though I am making plans to steal him and use him for my own twisted purposes. Fear me, and my Evil Chopping/Spinning Blades of Death!

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I remember when Harry proposed to me. 

He did a rubbish job of it too, you know. But I don't think I would have had it any other way. Any more charismatic and it simply wouldn't have been Harry, because he was clumsy and awkward around girls. Not so much me, I suppose, but he had a hell of a time getting the words out.

It was one of those lazy stretches during the summer, when all the bees drone tonelessly and the air is sticky and sweet. Harry had come to the Burrow a few days before for the baby shower. It had been a good time, a reunion between friends. Ron and Hermione were amazingly pleased; everyone came. More time was spent reminiscing about the times at Hogwarts than actually celebrating the coming baby. I hadn't seen Harry that happy in ages. He laughed, really laughed. And his eyes sparkled; those beautiful, wonderful eyes that I never got over, even if I did lie to myself until sixth year.

We sat by each other, and he held my hand the entire time. Every now and then he would whisper something in my ear and it would tickle _so badly_ though I never said a thing. It was good to have him close; I had almost lost him three years ago and it had nearly destroyed me.

That night we walked out by the pond. The grass was dewy and soft and perfect. We lay down together there, not caring about the wet seeping into our clothes. It was peaceful, and, above all, that was good. We watched the stars that night as we talked. I remember the whole conversation. There was something that made it special, though to this day I can't place what.

"Ginny," he said.

"Mmm-hmmm?" I snuggled closer to him. His arm was around my back and he was wearing a gray t-shirt that proclaimed, 'I could never get the hang of Thursdays,' in blockish black letters. I never understood that, but when I asked Harry what it meant he just laughed and mumbled something about the end of the world, spaceships, and muggles.

He didn't respond for a moment, but I didn't mind. The both of us loved just being together like that. "Ron and Hermione seem happy." Harry shifted slightly, so that his head was propped up on one elbow facing me.

"They _are_ happy."

"Mmm…" He pressed his lips to the top of my head.

I continued watching the sky. There was a sudden string of light and I nudged him in the ribs. "Shooting star. Make a wish, quick." He glanced upwards and then closed his eyes, concentrating hard. A grin flashed across my face and I poked him impishly. "So, what did you ask for?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but I gave him a swift kiss to prevent the words from escaping. The curious look he gave me was reprimanded with, "You can't tell me what you wished for! It wouldn't come true then."

A conniving grin suddenly split his face. "What did _you _ask for then."

I opened my mouth to explain that I hadn't wished for anything; it was his star. But I found myself oddly incapable as his lips covered mine. When he broke away he whispered silkily in my ear, "Wouldn't want it not to come true, would we?" And I slapped him playfully, knowing full well that I had walked right into that.

The next morning I stumbled into the kitchen to find Harry making breakfast. I shuffled over and gave him a hug when he turned around, carefully maneuvering my hand over to the frying pan containing sausages. He never knew that I took one then. The only reaction was a perplexed look when he was fixing plates up for everyone and came up one sausage short. But he was so good, even concerning simple things like that. When we came to the table there was no sausage next to his eggs, and I loved him so much for that.

My whole family ate together that morning, and it pleased me more than words could possibly describe. It wasn't exactly like old times. Not just because of the physical wounds that were inflicted to us over the course of the War, but the emotional. It meant so much to our parents though. We hadn't all eaten breakfast together since Percy left; someone was always missing.

I think Harry felt like an intruder at first. He knew how amazing it was the Weasleys were together again; how much all of us treasured it. But his discomfort was assuaged with those simple words from my mother, "We wouldn't be whole without you, Harry."

At first I thought he would cry. Instead, he stepped over to Mum, hugged her tightly, and responded softly, "You have no idea how much that means to me."

More than a few tears fell onto her breakfast and, admittedly, mine. I scurried out of the room, claiming the need to use the loo, and came back a few minutes later slightly more composed.

Gradually, everyone left the room, and Harry and I were left to deal with the dishes. Neither of us was much good at cleaning charms, so we opted for the muggle way out. Last time we had tried to magic the kitchenware clean a rather complex disaster had developed involving parrots, extension cords, garden gnomes, plates in unnatural places, and an extremely stinky piece of cheese.

So we washed and dried in silence for a bit, both of us lost in our own thoughts. Finally Harry spoke up.

"Do you enjoy this?"

It was a funny sort of question; you had to of heard the way he asked it. But I didn't answer immediately, as I normally would have. I really thought about what he wanted to know, and the answer surprised me.

"Well, yes, I suppose I do." A small smile crept across my lips. "Though, no matter how sappy it sounds, it wouldn't be nearly as fun without you."

Harry seemed to carry out some internal debate at this point, and his eyes focused solely on the plate he was rubbing dry. "Would you like to do this for the rest of your life?"

My first instinct was to mention that I hardly found dish-washing a fulfilling career pursuit, but I paused. I looked at Harry blankly. If it was what I thought it was, that was a bloody horrible way to propose to anyone. So, I concluded, he obviously had some deeper intent in mind. With all intentions of finding out what this deeper intent was, I intelligently asked, "Huh?"

He blushed and examined his hands, looking quite embarrassed. "Not washing dishes Gin, that's not what I meant. Just… Like this. Together."

I continued to gaze at him blankly.

"Aw, come off it, you know what I'm asking." Harry looked at me desperately, his eyes pleading.

I shook my head no. That would have been too much to hope for.

Calloused hands ran through his hair, mussing it up even more. I stood stock still. His face went a delicate shade of violent red.

"Er… What I'm trying to say is… Well, the fact of the matter… You see… Come on, Ginny… In all honesty…" Harry took a very large, very deep breath, and I took a single tentative step towards him.

I don't think I've ever heard anyone speak quite as fast as Harry spoke the next nine words, the ones that changed my life forever.

"I love you Ginny Weasley will you marry me?"

It comes as a surprise to me that the scream I gave then didn't deafen Harry permanently. I bounced around the kitchen screeching "YES YES YES YES YES!" before finally hopping into the arms of a slightly overwhelmed but very happy Harry and attempting to snog the living daylights out of him.

Of course, that little display had to stop when all six of my brothers stormed into the room, demanding, "HARRY JAMES POTTER! Stop doing whatever you are doing to make our baby sister scream!"

I discreetly stunned them all and resumed exploring the enjoyments of having a fiancé.

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A/N: Well, hoped you liked it! Please review even if you didn't, if only to tell me that you read it. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. 


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